Courtesy of Organic Armor, they've alot more to offer.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Courtesy of Organic Armor, they've alot more to offer.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
He's pretty good at it - able to reveal what is proper and making them happy while also remaining professional. I gave him my own criticism - I know he was leaning into the radio to hear the traffic but to a novice it appears to be a slouching walk away.
It makes me so proud of him...that's my man, I say to myself.
Of course, they've had about 8 fatalities in the last week and a half. Not only is there the familial drama and trauma, the emotional impact of dealing with it after the fact, and the ever-present media - no, when it's all over they have to return and take dozens of measurements and draw page after page of accident recreation. And then there are the reports...You and I get a frisson of horror just driving past a tarped scene. Imagine having to live with it day after day, description after description, for a month.
And those images don't just get deleted from their minds when the report is signed off on and filed away.
It's a strange life, living with it and knowing that you will be the one to whom they turn to talk about it, the one to nod and accept that they will need something to distract them from the work for a few hours...
For what its worth, folks...slow down just a little out there. At least leave yourself some emergency maneuvering room, okay? Because even if you wreck at 50 mph and the car stops - you don't. You're going 50 mph, too. Your body wasn't built for it.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Anyhoosker, I am all alone. Aside from the furry brats. He's off doing that fun riot team training. It's been quiet all day and I've enjoyed it until now. Work done, I can go watch TV for awhile but...I think I might just go to bed and read a bit.
I have to find a nice doctor in this town. Too many things not quite right and I'm starting to get a little concerned. Trigger finger, consistent numbness in hands, strange stuffy feeling when I bend over...
And then there is the dental appointment to make in Atlanta when we visit next month. See, I have this thing...going to see a dentist is like...going to a firing squad. Totally phobic, I have to steel my nerves and I sit there in the chair stoic, frozen and just like some frigid bride, lie back, and "think of England". But I found this fantastic guy and a great office. He understands my issues completely. They're very calm and quiet and patient. I always make sure I have a hair clip so that I can take it out and play with it during the procedures - anything to distract me. I don't know what to say - I get all frantic just thinking about it.
So there is a lot of poking and prodding and expensive damned crap to come but I have to take advantage of the fact that my deductible is met. And...in truth...I think it's all related to the boobs. Okay, not the dental visit. But the hands...so maybe I can get that corroborated and start the further agonizing process of planning for that bit of joy.
It is either surgery or a similar level of investment in corsetry.
Add in to this whole mess the fact that my hormones are on a roller coaster this week...I'm tearing up over the Geico gecko for shit's sake. I mean, WTF?!
My sister emailed me about her job at the university in Chicago. This is a situation that she has festered in for a few years now. Before that she festered elsewhere. She is...I don't even know how to describe her. Smart, very. But too polite and quiet. Each job has essentially found her being treated like crap for very little salary. And I feel so sorry for her. Because she spent years getting degrees and is still just a mouse in a room of cats.
And she's asking me what to do...I shall tell you all a terrible secret - a shameful secret that I tell very few. I have literally no formal education. None. The last grade I actually remember with any clarity is 6th (bless you, Mr. Williams, wherever you are...). After the 9th, I went on to...other, more profitable, endeavors. As for 7th through 9th? I hardly recall a thing...a paper in lit class that the teacher read aloud - though thankfully anonymously...aceing cooking class while utterly "medicated"...having a panic attack at the start of a school year wherein you weren't handed your classes on a sheet of paper like in Chicago - no, you shuttled from one table and teacher to another in a room full of kids and parents and my father - my darling father who had done rather little for me in my life till that moment - let me hide my terrified face in his jacket as he picked the courses I would never attend and select teachers whom I would never see. In that moment I forgave a decade of failure. To this very moment, my love for him blooms on that stem of kindness.
Those are the snippets that I can remember and I get these messages from a woman with her - what is it? Doctorate?- and I absolutely cannot fathom it. How can a person get so many pieces of fine paper with pretty ribbons and yet not be able to cope with office politics? All those years wasted so that you can be a glorified admin? I try hard to make the supportive noises but after all this time I am running out of platitudes.
So if we happen to meet and the talk runs to alma maters and majors, you'll understand why I'll excuse myself to the Ladies or refresh my drink.
A strange night...perhaps it's just that I am so tired and full of stupid estrogen. It was a nice evening yesterday, though, as Trooper and I drove through the late night air to drop off reports at the office. An empty country road with just the dead skunks and crickets on the air...autumn is coming and, in it, I hear the words I read all those long years ago...
"Beware the autumn people. For some, autumn comes early, stays late through life where October follows September & November touches October & then istead of December & Christ's birth, there is no Bethlehem Star, no rejoicing, but September comes again & old October & so on down the years, with no winter, spring, or revivifying summer. For these beings fall is ever the normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond. Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? the grave. Does blood stir in their veins? No: the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks from their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss betweeen the stars. They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. The frenzy forth. In gust they beetle-scurry, creep, thread, filter, motion, make all moons sullen, & surely cloud all clear-run waters. The spider-web hears them, trembles - breaks. Such are the autumn people. Beware of them."
Ray Bradbury ~ Something Wicked This Way Comes
Sunday, September 23, 2007
No one is above the law and no officer wants to wind up in prison. What is already hell becomes an absolutely deadly nightmare. So what would possibly bring them to consider action that could lead to that? In the cases I've seen it relates to the ability to sweep it under the rug. And that means having supervisors who are as dirty as they are.
We can look at the story in Atlanta wherein officers entered this old lady's home and shot her dead. And the informant was running around Atlanta, being followed by the narcotics guys, calling the feds because he knew his life was very cheap just then.
This gentleman puts a great many of such incidents in one place. Bless him for his work. Even if it brings shame to some, we cannot hide from it. We can't shame ourselves that way - especially those involved in law enforcement. People who abuse their power should have it removed from them. There is no other way to maintain a respect for the rest, otherwise.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
I try really hard to not be overly emotional when we make these decisions about the extra work. Logic dictates that the best decision is to have the money. But it sure does make me pouty. The best cure for that is labor. I did what I usually do when it's a nice evening and he's working - I mowed the lawn. This, friends, pisses him off mightily.
See, he takes that duty (and the requisite edging, weed eating and blowing) as his very own - an expression of his rule over his castle. So when I do it he gets all et up. This is my main reason. Ok, two reasons. I need the exercise and it allows us more time to just be together. Otherwise, he'll be out there for three hours. On OUR time. This will leave Sunday just for the rest of our errands and fun. I think it's worthwhile.
However, I think the neighbor kids were laughing as my ass ate my damned shorts over and over.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
So I try to think of other things to toss in here - instead of music videos - but there is such a...plethora of commentary on current events elsewhere that I don't want to always take that easy route, either. (Fracking hell - I DID want to mention this sale to all the CHL folks, though. The handbags are really nice.)
There is the Zonker method - whereby one posts something damned well interesting then disappear for a month, erase the page entirely and return with something else amazingly deranged and hilarious. But I haven't the mullet for that.
Perhaps I will write about what is on my mind lately and that is Gardening. (Yes, you guys can all move on and look at Grace for awhile.)
See, way back in the pre-Trooper days I had a garden - it was a leased house but it had just about the most perfect format possible. Add in that the septic field had to be completely relaid and the entire back yard was nuked - so I had essentially a blank canvas. I knew I wanted a pond near the highest point and a path meandering down and around to the pool. And I wanted roses. Lots and lots of them. Over the course of 2 years it became the most gorgeous place possible. I even had a spectacular old fashioned glider swing inside an arbor that was covered in roses and surrounded by all manner of flowers.
When I had to leave that place I absolutely wept over it. I was heartbroken. And I haven't really gardened anywhere else since then. Oh, I put in some vegetables here and some potted plants there but...the time has come again to consider that investment of time, money, and sweat. It will be harder, not knowing the area and the common plants. Even the soil is different - vastly so. And I want to do it all in a fell swoop so that the hardest labor is cared for in one horrid weekend, leaving hours in days to follow to plant and mulch. But the bones must be laid out and it is in that process that I find myself now.
And it makes me think - about how I am so much better at this sort of thing than nearly anything else. And most contented.
It's time, I think, to make that promise in plants...after all, a garden is a sort of...acceptance of place. A way of saying "I'll be here awhile..." A setting down of roots...it's time.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Saturday, September 15, 2007
One of my favorites is the Matterhorn Cam and other associated cams. If you hit this one before bedtime, you can see dawn rise over the alps.
This one is for my beloved Boulder. When I used to go every New Years, we'd stand at the bike stand and call friends and wave hello. Nice to see dawn on the Flatirons. The college has a nice cam, too. You can see just a bit or the whole front range. The Tundra Cam is most excellent.
I've always wanted to visit Alaska and the Squirrel Cam is pretty fun since you can see the temperature as well as enjoy the constant daylight.
Of course, I've a few old favorites that I'd like to see again...and some new places I'd like to get to know (the last mostly due to my love of Great Big Sea)...sigh...I reckon I'd better get a move on before I get too old to enjoy them. Meanwhile, I'll enjoy the view from here...
Friday, September 14, 2007
In short, an officer in St. George - a suburb, I take it, of St. Louis - takes it upon himself to imcriminate himself on video during the stop of a young man. Said young man had been previously assaulted by a drunken off-duty officer. I haven't researched the thing top to bottom but if I were in a small town and experienced same I'd have a car bristling with surveillance tech and ECM. Damned straight I would.
That officer's supervisor was involved in unsavory matters, too.
"Five years ago, an administrative commission upheld an accusation that Uhrig propositioned a 17-year-old girl for sex during a traffic stop in 2000, when he was an Arnold officer."
What is really disturbing is "...[an] Unofficial website popular with Saint Louis, Missouri police contained a death threat against Brett Darrow three months before his recent encounter."
And, of course, in the recent incident the officer's video tape is missing or deemed erased in a basic SOP.
Now, I suppose my opinion is colored by the fact that DPS is so stringent about the "violator contact" rules that this sort of thing is simply not even possible. People are given marks in files for cursing on tape. This sort of behavior would find you likely being formally charged.
Trooper and I have often butted heads about the SWAT shows (Dallas SWAT, Detroit SWAT) and the use of SWAT for the serving of warrants on drug dealers. As though they never go to the store for some milk. SWAT has a place, that's certain. But not there, not in my opinion. And every hayseed county now gets to have an essentially poorly trained SWAT team because the feds sent funds all around for Homeland Security. This has ensured errors - I don't need to detail them here as we've all heard about them.
The reason we sometimes butt heads is because I put such a strong emphasis on the duty and honor necessary when one has the ability to remove from a citizen everything they have and know. To have the right of life or death, freedom or incarceration, over another human being is a right that MUST be respected and MUST be exercised with every possible courtesy and care.
We all know that crank-fueled morons are not going to behave and you will have to wrestle them into the car after they've beaten the baby. But a basic traffic stop should never escalate to a point where you are so obsessed that you threaten to shoot a kid for daring to show the world you're a prick. Is life in that area so damned dull that all they have to do is make this kid the object of their anger?
In many ways the response of his supervisor is worse. Everyone talks about the "code" and how they protect each other. But anyone who would stand by this guy is just an idiot. It's only a matter of time before he seriously fucks someone up. And what then? Call it a misunderstanding? A sad mistake?
The guy has no business having a badge and his supervisor needs to be demoted to the street for a few years. I may take some flack for this - maybe even from Trooper - but it's okay. It boils down to respecting the power and authority that you are GIVEN by the citizens you work for. You are supposed to be stronger and more sensible than the rest of us. You're supposed to protect us - sometimes even from ourselves.
If you let this sort of behavior slide by or if you give it a snicker and ignore it you are tarnishing your own honor. You are a lesser man for it.
So many FANTASTIC posts that I don't even know where to begin - I read through the start of August and each one was a gem. I liked this one for its emotive quality. Sing it, sister.
Check out the latest one, though - anyone able to behave that way...well, they need our support, don't they? Go. Now. You're welcome.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Instead, a little of this helps me get through the day.
And just in case some of you have gotten tired of the constant media barrage about the war and what we're doing - I think this person would ask your forbearance. People made horrid, faith shattering decisions that should never have been required of them.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
But this morning, I am more loathe to wake him. Word is that down in Odessa two officers were killed and another injured. I believe they were DPS Troopers but still waiting to get confirmation. Soon, phone calls will be made and information acquired. It's a very small world...you wouldn't think so, seeing a Trooper every few miles in Texas. But in fact there are not that many - not for the size of the state. So they tend to know each other or to at least know someone who knows someone.
So I don't want to wake him yet. Let him rest before the news arrives. Time enough for that...
Update: The victims were not DPS but local officers. Seems it was a 911 hangup call with supposed shots fired in the background. He had a rifle and they had hardly a chance in the world. A sad day...
Saturday, September 08, 2007
I know that it means I REALLY need to backup the stuff on the laptop, now. Heavens forfend I lose THIS data, too. I am thinking about trying to mount that drive in an old case and boot it as a 2nd drive - maybe the damned thing just hasn't got a boot record left or whatever but the data can be acquired in a simple directory structure.
The most irritating aspect to the failure is that I'd just loaded all the photo cds onto that drive. Years of pics...
In all my years of computing (read DOS and BBSing)I have NEVER had a drive failure. My God - I was a virgin. LOL I sure do miss my PC...but that doesn't mean I cannot show you something...he always knew he'd be a Ranger...LOL He tells me he used to practice roping on the ceramic bulls and somehow one day a bull was broken. Not that he did it...uh huh...
I love you, darlin'....
Friday, September 07, 2007
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
I was in the final throes of a complicated relationship when I came upon Judith Thurman’s book, “The Life of a Storyteller” at the Atlanta Public Library Book Sale. I thought it would be just a few days’ pleasure as I opened the book - a distraction from the troublesome hours. It turned into a favorite that I would read over and over when I needed a reminder that life is an adventure that we can either choose to live or avoid.
Karen “Tanne” Blixen AKA Isak Dinesen was an amazing woman – she was a genius with words who, as with most geniuses, was flawed in many ways. It takes a lot of living to bring about that language and easy prose. And a lot of hiding to create the intricate tales she wove. She was born just this side of aristocracy and so bent her life like a willow seeking that clear water but never quite managed to shake her roots clear of that dirt of birth. And so the marriage to the Baron…she was 28 when she left the confines of her very maternal family and moved to British East Africa (known later as Kenya).
Like many women, she fell in love with a part of Bror that was noble and good and fierce and chose to ignore his defects. Even when it was obvious that the marriage was done she did not wish to abandon it, happy to let him go and do what he pleased so long as she could remain who and where she was. And she chose to ignore the financial peril that dogged her steps, finding a solace in the land and her words. But by then the land had brought her Denys…
It was, of course, a doomed affair since he was suspected to be at least bisexual but, for her, intelligence was almost the same as sex and a long talk over intellectual matters was very satisfying. It was enough. But then her age began to tick inside and she craved for a time that normal womanly life of home and children. She had to know it was impossible. She was already at least 40 years old. Their relationship became tortured and the rare hot pleasure became rarer and colder still. The pounding drum of financial ruin played louder and louder until there was no ignoring it. She had to leave her precious land and return to that ancient home with all its maternal burden and staid ways.
What was an unbearable time became madness as news of Denys’ death rang through the country just weeks before she was to leave. It is said that Beryl Markham was to ride with him that day but her beau begged her not to go. She thought it was a matter of jealousy but stayed. Later that same day Denys' plane crashed.
Denys was like a god to all of the "old hands" in Kenya what with his handsome demeanor and handsomer ways. He was a gentleman of an older time and respected for being forthright even if he wasn’t always pleasant. I like to think his death made the leaving easier for her – there was nothing left in Africa for her.
And then, in the cold climate of Denmark, she began to write again as she had when she was a child. Just romances and tales woven through with plays on morality and sharp witted jokes about pride. She’d known it all and could look on such matters from a height that most people don’t ever attain. Her stories related those lessons but they were all couched in disguises like her favorite pantomimes.
As she aged, she endured great pains (essentially mercury poisoning from the original treatment of her syphillis) and so ate sparingly – perhaps somewhat anorexic to today’s definition but I think, too, in order to avoid having more weight on her bones than she could stand, thinking, perhaps, that the pain would be worse with that weight. In the end, she was a wisp, a lamp of sardonic skin lit with an intellectual fervor that never faded. Peter Beard's portrait captured it precisely.
She has been and always will be my muse.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Sunday, September 02, 2007
The below is a print I have - entitled Spring - and I think it encompasses some of his best skills.
He loved all things Roman and Greek and reproduced a number of historical moments. Too, he was able to render marble and stone in a way that I don't think has been matched since.
I have also adored the Pre-Raphaelites for ages, of course. And it may be that I am simply a Romantic and so prefer such things. But I swear that I cannot believe a word of it when someone waxes poetic over what could be a dropcloth.
I shall leave it to Fred Ross (and here again) as his words, though perhaps lengthy, say exactly what ought to be said. And peruse that hosting site and see what the future of art might hold - something to rival that of Sir Lawrence and the others before him - others that understood the, "...undying need of humanity for well crafted, life affirming fine art, compelling, sincere, with technical excellence and imbued indelibly with humanity, beauty, and truth."
I think I shall put some Ralph Vaughan-Williams on...perfect for this sort of work. Now, then...let's see what I can do.